


Ordinary People

by starlurker



Category: As the World Turns
Genre: Alternate Universe, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-10-12
Updated: 2010-10-12
Packaged: 2017-10-12 15:28:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,513
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/126374
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/starlurker/pseuds/starlurker
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Reid has to make a decision.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Ordinary People

Reid carefully sliced the seared tuna with peppercorns and arranged them on a white plate. He wielded his knife with deadly skill, but plating was something he was still trying to improve. The key to people not finding out about your weakness was always subtle overcompensation, or it has been in his experience.

"Luc," he yelled. His saucier came running with a pan of wasabi-butter sauce. "Pour it carefully around the tuna," Reid instructed. "The tuna has to look like an island, but you can't put so much that the fish becomes greasy." Luc did as instructed, pouring the glistening, rich liquid around the tuna.

"Not completely incompetent," Reid said. He could tell Luc wanted to roll his eyes. "A complaint, Monsieur Snyder?"

" _Non_ ," Luc said. Try as Reid often did to resist it, he wasn't immune to Luc's French accent. His entire kitchen, ordinarily cowering with fear over his criticisms, would often soften the minute Luc came in, the harsh atmosphere turning as light as a perfect soufflé. Reid called out the next order and tightened his hat to prevent sweat from coming down his face. The next order was butter poached lobster with caviar mousse.

The night wore on with orders coming in like bullets. Never in Reid's wildest dreams did he think his restaurant would be this successful that fast, but considering how many restaurateurs became cynical, bankrupt alcoholics, he wasn't about to complain. Just like every night though, it ended so quickly that Reid sometimes wondered where all the time went, and would look at his uniform and apron spattered with various stains, his feet aching from running, his voice sore from yelling and it would sink in that he was now a five-star chef. Even if it was in a pathetic little town called Oakdale. Thank God it was relatively close to Chicago at least. He walked to his office, rolling his shoulders to relieve the tension with each step, and yelled out a quick good night to the wait staff and cooks who were doing their last bits of clean-up. To his surprise, Luc was in his office.

"Monsieur Snyder," he said, making sure to exaggerate the rrr to get under Luc's skin. The door to his office closed behind him with a soft whoosh of air.

"I don't understand why we must play this game," Luc said, his _th_ turning into a z. Reid would call it adorable, but that would mean that he had to say the word adorable. Luc had unbuttoned his double-breasted uniform, revealing a tight, horizontally striped shirt underneath. "I think half the kitchen knows," Luc continued, "and I don't see how this pretending is fooling anyone."

Reid raised an eyebrow. "Luc, I've made sure that I treat you the same as everyone else. If anyone suspects, they're far smarter than they look. No one in that kitchen is that smart."

Luc's mouth hung open in disbelief. "You are terrible." He raised an eyebrow at Reid as well. "And does that include me?"

"Yes," Reid said.

"I'm just as smart as you are," Luc said, radiating anger.

"Not yet," Reid countered. "Head chef," he said, pointing to himself, then pointed to Luc. "Saucier. You still have some way to go, Monsieur Snyder."

" _Va te faire foutre,_ " Luc said, and stormed out.

Reid sat down heavily on his chair. He'd pay for that later. His head started throbbing, and before he drifted off to sleep, he thought he saw a woman in his office, gauzy as if wrapped in smoke and shaking her head.

  


Reid became a legendary football player who was lauded for his athletic skill and his courage in coming out in a homophobic culture, an international spy, a rock singer known for mixing classical training with inspired jazzy improvisations. A stretch of time passed where he felt like he was floating in the ether. Then he became a chess prodigy, a NASCAR driver, an astronaut who makes first contact with the alien race known as the Zughathek, which was actually a simplified term for the Zughathek because human tongues were incapable of reproducing the clicks and hisses that the Zughathek's thoraxes were capable of.

Throughout all of this, there was Luke, Luciano, L, Lucky, Snyder, Grimaldi. Always helping, always there in one way or another.

  


His afternoon nap was refreshing, even if he did dream of a woman wrapped in smoke and being in a kitchen. His best friend Luke was in it too, and he talked funny. Reid walked out of his room to go into the living room, where he waited patiently as his tia – "don't call me auntie," she said when they first met -- adjusted his hat with the skull and crossbones and fiddled with the strap where his curved plastic sword lay in its scabbard. Uncle Angus and Tia Leticia bought him a hook for his right hand and a stuffed parrot he could strap on his left shoulder with a strip of Velcro.

"Avast, ye matey!" Reid yelled. Tia Leticia stifled a giggle the way she always did, by biting her bottom lip until it disappeared completely. "It's supposed to be scary," he said, dejected.

"It's getting there, hijo. You just have to practice more," she said.

"How?"

His aunt stopped her little adjustments and ministrations to think. "You can roll your letter R a bit more. Arrrrrrh!" she said, baring her teeth and prolonging the expression. "I can get some marker and blacken your teeth," she added. "That way, you look scary and creepy. Do you want that?"

" _Por favor_ ," Reid said, just to make her happy. It worked, if his tia's smile was anything to go by. "I don't really like the candy that everyone gives me though, except for the chocolate. Why can't they give out empanadas?"

"Well, hijo," she said, "it's because people are afraid that other bad people will do something to the food. If it's already wrapped, then the food is safe."

"But what about botulism? Those cans are closed and people can still get sick," Reid said.

She looked down at him fondly, which always made Reid feel a little strange – he wanted to squirm as much as he wanted to accept those looks as easily as she gave them. "You and your books," she said. "You'll be smarter than me and your uncle in no time."

"No," Reid said. "You make the best empanadas, so you'll always be smarter than me."

"In the kitchen," she said, ruffling his hair.

"In the hospital, too."

"If you keep reading the way you do, you'll be smarter than me there too. That's okay," she said, putting a finger on Reid's mouth to hush his protest. "People are good at lots of things. Sometimes other people get better, and that's okay. It's only bad when people stop wanting to learn."

"Do you think I can be as good in the hospital as you?" Reid asked. He remembered waiting for her in the staff room once with his uncle, watching out the window while all the doctors and nurses went around looking busy. All of a sudden, there was a sick man who came in on a bed with wheels with a lot of people around him, and his tia jumped on top of the man and started pushing at the man's chest and blowing air into him. The man had blood all over but his aunt wasn't scared, and she kept yelling out numbers. They took the bleeding man to another room and Reid waited with his uncle for twenty more minutes before she came to the staff room in new scrubs.

"Is that man okay?" Reid had asked.

"Yes, hijo, but he needs to stay here longer to get all the way better," she'd said. She turned to his uncle and said, "I feel like Popeye's – can we stop by to pick up some chicken?" And Reid thought his tia was a hero then and now, because she helped people in one minute and talked about fried chicken the next like it was no big deal.

A snap of fingers in front of his face brought him back to attention. Tia Leticia was looking at him that way again, like she was biting down on all the good things she wanted to say because she thought it would embarrass him. "You with me, Reid?" she asked. He nodded and was rewarded with a smile.

"If you want to be scary, you have to practice," she said. "Especially since it's just one night. You have to prepare what you want to say."

"How do you say trick or treat in Spanish?" he asked.

She tilted her head in thought. "I didn't celebrate Halloween so I don't know. _Truco o trato_ , probably. Just say it in English though. People will look funny at a white boy speaking Spanish on Halloween, even here in Texas."

"Maybe if I practice my sword?" Reid asked hopefully.

"Like Zorro," she said. "You can send fear into a criminal's hearts with a swing." She grabbed a pink carnation stem out of the vase and held it out. "I will sacrifice a flower for a good swing, hijo. See if you can snap it in half."

"But my sword's plastic," Reid complained.

"Try anyway."

He drew his sword and swung it as hard and as fast as he could, and to his delight, the flower snapped in half. Petals flew into the air and drifted gently down like pink snowflakes.

He looked at her, her round brown face, her long black hair in a ponytail, her soft and comforting body that she complained about sometimes – "Too many empanadas," she'd say, after which his uncle would wrap his arms around her from behind and whisper something in her ear, which would make her giggle – and felt so much warmth and affection that he smiled his biggest, toothiest smile, just for her.

His aunt smiled back, her grin just as beaming. "You'll break lots of hearts one day," she said, and ruffled his hair again. "Tia!" Reid said, as he ducked away from her touch and tightened his hat by adjusting the strap, his aunt's loud, girlish laughter bouncing across the room like bells.

There was a sudden burst of noise near the door. "Luke, did you stumble on the shoes again?" Reid asked.

"No," Luke said. "My cape is too long and I stumbled on it." He walked into the living room and Tia said a prolonged _ooooooh!_

"Cool vampire costume," Reid said.

"Cool pirate costume," Luke replied. "We're going to have so much candy this year! Our costumes are awesome!"

"Let me get my coat," Tia said, "and then we can scare all our neighbors into giving you all their candy."

Reid sat down on the couch and patted the space next to him. Luke grabbed his cape to avoid tripping, only to stumble when he was close to the couch. Reid laughed out loud, which Luke didn't seem to like.

"I get all the M&Ms," Reid said. "You can get the Skittles."

"Deal," Luke said. He extended his hand out for a handshake, and Reid took it. He felt flushed all of a sudden. When he looked at Luke again, he saw an older Luke instead, a Luke with big brown eyes and creamy skin and spiky hair.

"Luke?" he asked, awed and curious and a little afraid.

"What?" And just like that, Luke was little again, with his round cheeks and haystack hair. Reid shook his head and tried to remember what he ate that day. He'd read a story with something called peyote once -- maybe something went in his food. He felt sleepy again, which was so strange because he just woke up from a nap. Before he knew it, his eyes were closed, Luke's voice talking about candy necklaces becoming a soothing lullaby.

  


A pair of thieves who stole the Mona Lisa.

Two big city folk who gave up their jobs as stockbrokers to start an organic farm.

Oliver and Snyder, two assassins known for their deadly skill.

Pediatrician Reid Oliver and philantropist Luke Snyder who are building sustainable housing in Namibia, with respect to the local populace in the forefront.

Mister Snyder and Doctor Oliver, two refined Englishmen who had to hide their illicit love affair while courting Madeleine and Katherine.

All of them never quite right.

  


Reid's long sleep was interrupted by Luke bouncing up and down on the bed. The after images of a dream lingered in his head, the white smoke coalescing into a vaguely familiar feminine figure into the darkest of night.

"Come on, Reid, I know you're awake," Luke said.

"Because you woke me up," Reid replied. He bid a fond farewell to the fifteen minutes or so that he liked to spend in bed staring at nothing first thing in the morning. "Was there any reason you had to wake me up this early?" he asked, trying not sound crabby but failing. If he was honest with himself, he really didn't try that hard because he wanted Luke to use get-Reid-out-of-bed-in-a-good-mood tricks. The familiar sight of the ceiling in his room at Katie's soothed him. He felt a little off from the dream.

"You know, one of these days, you can just ask," Luke said. "It's not like I mind doing it."

Reid raised himself on his elbows to look at Luke, who had the worst bed head in the history of modern man. He was lying in between the V of Reid's legs in a crouching position, like a bedraggled cat arching its back. Reid's morning erection was making itself known, and Luke looked at it with an exasperated yet fond expression.

"This way's more fun," Reid said, smirking. "If you wake me up, you have to work for it." He inched himself up using his elbows, his back and legs sliding pleasantly along his sheets.

"You're a terrible person," Luke said, and pouted a little. "You're using the fact that I've been in love with you for years and you're taking horrible advantage of it." Reid would roll his eyes but he knew it would delay everything, and he was far too practical a man to waste time, even as what Luke said registered.

"What do you mean in love for years?"

Luke huffed in exasperation, his warm breath going on Reid's cock. He was a normal gay man, so all remaining blood went south once that exhale of air breezed through his boxers.

"Don't start that game again," Luke said. He started peeling off Reid's boxers by folding it on its elastic band, then folding that over itself, revealing Reid's skin inch by agonizing inch.

"Can you hurry up?" Reid asked, and didn't even attempt to mask the huskiness of his voice. He forgot what he was trying to ask in the first place.

"The anticipation's part of the fun," Luke smirked, as he peeled Reid's boxers off in his maddening way.

Because this was Reid's life, a loud alarm bell rang just as Luke was about to hit the prize. "Fucking hell," Reid snarled. "What is that?"

Luke raised himself up so that he was kneeling on his bed. "Can't the citizens of Salem save themselves for one night?" he asked, looking at the ceiling. He sighed expansively, then met Reid's eyes and extended his hand. "Come on," he said grudgingly, "we both have to get in costume. There's probably a fire or something. Alarm off." The merciless shrieking of the alarm stopped.

Reid stared at Luke and waited for everything that just happened to make sense. Luke stared back with his eyebrow raised.

"Reid? Costumes? Probable fire?"

"I have no idea what you're talking about," Reid said.

"Reid," Luke said sharply. He tugged at Reid's hand and dragged him to the bookcase, which flipped over to reveal two glass cylinders big enough for people. Reid had barely gotten over the shock of that when Luke shoved him into the left and pressed a series of buttons. A green band of light started sliding down from the top of the glass. He looked in panic over at Luke, who walked into his cylinder calmly as he chewed a nail. Reid closed his eyes and counted to ten, willing reality to return to its usual configuration.

With absolutely no luck. When he opened his eyes, he was in blue and white armor, the chest emblazoned with a stylized letter G. He looked over at Luke, who looked ridiculous (incredible) in red and orange armor, his costume with an elaborate V running from shoulder to navel.

"What the fuck?" Reid yelled, his voice bouncing around his glass tube -- his claustrophobia beginning to creep along the edges of his rapidly escalating freakout. He saw Luke say something, then felt his stomach drop as the floor beneath disappeared. He slid along a smooth tunnel of steel and dropped into the passenger side of a car that looked more like a tank. Luke followed a few seconds after, and with a casualness that Reid boggled at, he pressed a button to start the car and another series of buttons to bring up a visual image.

"Not a fire after all," Luke said. "It looks like a hostage situation. Tankertron, coordinates for Al's at full acceleration." The car-tank made a humming sound, sort of like a magnified hummingbird. A tunnel opened up before them, and the car zoomed out at a heart attack inducing speed, somehow _going through cars and walls_ like a ghost. They were at Al's in less than five minutes.

"Glacier, let's go," Luke said impatiently. The doors opened automatically. Reid grabbed Luke's wrist before he could go.

"Luke, I don't know what's going on," Reid said, his belief in himself fraying. "What is this? This car, these outfits, I don't know them."

Luke stared at him, and even though the mask he could see Luke's expression falter.

"Not this again," Luke said softly, as if talking to himself.

"Luke?"

"The Gryphon injured you a few months ago," Luke said haltingly. "You woke up saying that you didn't know who I was, what we did. What did I do wrong?" he asked, grief like broken glass cracking his voice.

Reid couldn't bear it. That expression on Luke's face was somehow familiar and he hated it with every cell in his body.

"Can we stop this first?" Luke asked, visibly deflated. "It's the Vandal attacking, and we don't want people hurt. Let me take care of it." Reid nodded. Luke got out of the car and with a last look at Reid, went into Al's, somehow lighting himself on fire as he walked. Reid could only stare in astonishment.

All of a sudden, he heard maniacal laughter behind him.

"Volcano left you behind again, I see," a voice said. Reid turned around and saw Damian Grimaldi in a purple costume levitating in mid-air. "He's a fool. You are no match for The Gryphon's galactic powers!" Damian raised his hand and an energy beam shaped like an eagle hit him square on the chest. Reid welcomed the blackness.

  


This time, Reid opened his eyes and saw nothing except white wisps of smoke that wrapped around him.

"I don't want this," he said. "I want the real thing. I want the Luke I left behind."

He got the sense that it was impossible. That all these lives being offered are a _reward_ for the lives he saved, for his final gift.

"These lives aren't real."

The silence was deafening, but Reid didn't think it was hostile. It was helpless.

In the end, no matter how hard he fought it, he had to accept his fate. You only have to believe your life is real for it to be real. Reid made his choice and closed his eyes.

  


"Wake up," Luke said. Reid rolled over and rubbed his eyes as Luke kept on talking. "That was so weird. I was talking about how we were going to split up the candy, and then all of a sudden you just fell asleep. Are you sure you're OK?" As Luke spoke, he kept slurring his words because he refused to take off his plastic fangs.

"I'm fine," Reid said.

"You guys ready?" his tia asked, putting on her coat.

"Yeah!" Reid and Luke said in unison. Luke tripped on his cape _again_ and punched Reid in the arm when he laughed. They got their bags emblazoned with pumpkins and stepped out together, their arms around each other's shoulders on a chilly October night. The neighborhood was alight with candles, the streets filled with little ghosts and fairies, little Volcanos and Glaciers. When he looked up at the starlit sky, Reid thought he saw the night flicker along the edges like the air above a bonfire, but Luke grabbed his hand to pull him in the car for some reason. He was going to tell Luke and ask for his theories, but Luke was talking about chocolate bars. Reid forgot.

THE END


End file.
